


Not a Grinch (12th Doctor/Reader)

by whowantstostayinrealityanyways



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 13:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowantstostayinrealityanyways/pseuds/whowantstostayinrealityanyways
Summary: Prompt: “Soooo, since everyone’s super festive, and we’ve been robbed of the only thing i liked about xmas (the dw xmas episode), i’m here to suggest, if not, request a 12/reader in which the reader is somewhat of a grinch and expected 12 to be one, too. But he shows up to decorate her flat, bake cookies and sneak mistletoes everywhere because he’s one cheeky sod? Reader’s brain struggles with all this info, gives into the flufflord that 12 is deep down? Lol”





	Not a Grinch (12th Doctor/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’m so sorry that this was so late (insert emoji of my ugly face crying). I’m really, really sorry my dude but I thought that this didn’t suck too bad. God, I hope this doesn’t suck.

“-and a Happy Christmas to you!” You waved at your annoying neighbors from across the hall as they finally left your apartment. You slid against the door as you closed it with a grunt.

 

It wasn’t that you hated the Christmas season or anything, you liked some aspects of it, but the commercialism of it all just seemed to drive you insane. Not to mention, you hated Nancy’s cooking and if she made you eat another gingerbread cookie you’d have to strangle her.

 

As you lazily laid on the floor of your apartment, contemplating whether or not you could skip the Christmas season altogether, you heard a familiar wheezing sound echo through your living room. Next, there were footsteps and finally, you saw the face of your favorite alien frowning down at you.

“What’re you doing on the _floor?_ ” The Doctor said with a disappointed Scottish accent.

“What’re you doing standing up?”

 

“ _(Y/n)_ ,” he gave you his classic ‘ _you’re-going-to-tell-me-now_ ’ look.

“Nancy and Helen came over.”

“Oh,” he nodded understanding. “What’d they want?”

“ _Besides to try and kill me with their awful cooking?_ To try and spread the joy of the Christmas spirit.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” he stepped back as you sat up.

 

“Have you gone  _mad?_  It’s  _Christmas_. Everyone thinks they need to be extra nice and ‘ _help_ ’ me with the things I do every day. I  _don’t_ need help. I’m  _not_ lonely. And I  _don’t_ like gingerbread!”

“No need to snap.”

“ _Was…was that a gingersnap joke?_ ”

“Maybe.”

 

“Oh God, tell me you haven’t lost your mind to Christmas too,” you stood up quickly to look him in the eyes.

“Of course not, who do you think I am?” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Thank goodness,” you sighed and flopped onto your couch. “So, where are you taking me today?”

 

The Doctor was an old alien who traveled through time and space on his ship called a TARDIS. He’d run into you at a convention that you’d suspected to be run by aliens and was actually a trap to consume humans. You’d helped him and then ran with him through the stars without ever looking back. Over the next few months, you’d realize that you’d fallen in love with him. Never being one to act on your feelings, especially crushes, you’d decided to keep it to yourself.

There was no reason to make things awkward between the two of you, he was your best friend and you didn’t want to scare him away. So you settled for staying in the friend zone.

 

“I was thinking of visiting The Library of Carsus, you like books don’t you?” The Doctor crinkled his old face as if he wasn’t really sure whether that was correct or not.

“Course, who  _doesn’t_ like books?”

“Who doesn’t like  _Christmas?_ ” He said smugly before quickly striding back inside his blue box.

“I don’t  _hate_ Christmas,” you muttered as you followed him inside.

.

.

.

After a rather uneventful trip to The Library of Carsus, which quite frankly was far too humid for your liking, you went straight to bed.

 

“Nighty night, Doctor,” you said as you left the TARDIS.

“Go to sleep or whatever it is you do when I’m not around,” he waved you off.

“Do you think my life revolves around you or something?”

“What, doesn’t it?” He winked playfully at you as he shut the doors from inside.

“Oh, I  _hate_ you,” you laughed as you walked to your bedroom. As you quickly drifted off to sleep you remember thinking how odd it was that you hadn’t heard the TARDIS take off yet.

.

.

You woke up far too early for your liking to the unfortunate event of having your face poked. 

 

“ _Mhmm_ , five more minutes,” you groaned and rolled over.

“Come on, you’ve been sleeping for ages.”

“Doctor?” you looked up to The Doctors face practically glowing with the morning light coming from your window behind him. It would have been a really romantic moment if it hadn’t been for the grumpy spaceman still poking your face. “Oh, stop it.”

 

“Get up already!”

“ _Why?_ ” you whined, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating faster than normal.

“Cause it’s Christmas!”

“…Doctor… I  _know_ you did not return me  _a week later_ than you were supposed to.”

“Oh, just come on.”

 

Reluctantly you crawled out of bed, The Doctor quickly taking your hand in his as he dragged you down the hall.

Some way, somehow, he’d turned your living room into a child’s Christmas morning dream. There were snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, a tree in the corner, garland everywhere and even the TARDIS was decorated.

The Doctor seemed all too excited by it all as he led you to your couch. It was highly suspicious.

 

“You know you’re going to have to clean this all up, right?”

“Oh,  _could you just_ , could you just enjoy yourself? Just for  _one_ day, have some fun. Could you do that?  _For me?_  Could you do that for me?” The Doctor pleaded with you. His eyes seemed desperate but his face hid a smile. You could never say no to him though.

“ _Fine_ ,” you pretended to be grumpy as you sat down on the couch. “Can I at least get my coffee?”

“Just be patient, will you?” he ran off to the kitchen leaving you alone to wonder what the hell was going on.

.

.

After an awkward morning of The Doctor rushing about, doing whatever it was that you wanted, and ‘accidentally’ bumping into random mistletoe with you; you weren’t sure how to feel about all of this Christmas stuff. On one hand, it was nice to have the man of your dreams running after your every whim and be forced to place kisses on your cheeks, but on the other, you felt weird seeing The Doctor being so overly kind to you.

It wasn’t until nightfall that you finally brought it up to him. You were both sitting on the couch, drinking tea and staring at the lights outside your window.

 

“Doctor, you know how I feel about Christmas, don’t you?”

“What, that you’re the Grinch?”

“Oh shut it,” you playfully shoved him. “I don’t  _hate_ Christmas, I just don’t like the Christmas  _season_.”

“And why’s that again?” He raised a bushy eyebrow at you condescendingly.

“I don’t know, I guess it all just seems so…  _fake_ to me. Everyone is suddenly happy and nice all the time but any other day of the year, they’d happily watch you  _rot_. It’s all just so fake.”

 

“Well, not all of it,” The Doctor turned toward you. “Do you think  _I_  was being fake today?”

“I don’t know, but it did feel out of your character.”

“ _No_ , I was being nice because you’re  _special_ to me.”

“ _Special?_ ” Your heart rate sped up.

“Of course,” he smiled but chose not to elaborate on the subject.

 

A few minutes went by.

 

“ _God, I said I would never do this_ ,” you cursed yourself. “Doctor. What am I to you?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Look, I know that I’m your companion or whatever, but what does that  _mean?_ What  _are_ we?”

“I,  _uh_ , well,” he looked conflicted as he thought about your question. “I mean, you’re, uh,  _you_. You’re different from all the rest.”

“Different  _how?_ ”

“You’re  _special_ to me.”

“ _But what does that mean?!_ ” You laughed almost in an angry way.

“It means-”

“ _Yes?_ ” You gave him a warning look that he quickly looked away from.

 

“Uh, is the oven going off?” he tried to change the subject and stand up from the couch. “I think I should pull the cookies out.”

“ _Doctor!_ ” you grabbed his sleeve to stop him from running away. “ _Please_.”

 

“Fine,” he sighed defeated. “I …  _love_ you.”

He said it without turning back toward you, too afraid to look at you.

“I love you,” he said it again with more confidence still not looking back. “I’m sorry but I do.”  
  


“ _Sorry?_ ” you laughed, tears pricking your eyes. “Hell, you’re not even  _close_ to sorry yet.”

Shocked, he whipped his head around to show you his bewildered face.

“Do you know  _how long_  I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?”

“(Y/n)-?”

 

“I love you  _so_ much you idiot old man,” you threw yourself at him.

“ _Eh_ ,” he groaned as you clung to him.

“Nope, you can’t escape,” you squeezed him tighter. “I love you.”

“I, I love you too but please let me go.”

“I don’t wanna.”

 

“Look,” he gently nudged you away from his chest to point above your heads.

“How did that even get there?”

“It’s on a timer, every few minutes it moves location.” Above your head was the stupid mistletoe that had been following you all day.

“Clever trick.”

“Thank you.”

 

“Shall we?” you smiled as you pulled him in for a proper kiss. 

“It is Christmas,” he closed the gap between your faces. It didn’t last for very long but it was definitely worth the wait. 

“Now, (Y/n),  _please let me go_.”

“Fine,” you whined as you parted.

 

As soon as you released him though, he grabbed your wrists and pulled you onto the couch with him as he sat back down. You let out a small squeak as you fell but ultimately you were so happy. The Doctor loved you. He was holding you in his arms on your couch on Christmas night.

 _Maybe there is such a thing as Christmas miracles_ , you thought.  _Either way, maybe next year won’t be as bad._

 

“Happy Christmas Doctor.”

“Happy Christmas (Y/n).”

 

 

 

“ _THE COOKIES!_ ” The Doctor frantically jumped up from the couch to run into the kitchen.

“You  _actually_ made cookies?” you laughed at him. 

“I never joke about cookies.”


End file.
